


Of Quidditch Stars and Star Doctors

by temptresslove



Series: Welcome to the Candy Store [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, Harry is a Quidditch superstar and Tom is the best doctor there is AU???, M/M, One-Shot, Romance, i couldnt think of better title HAHAHAHAHA, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 22:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17906885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temptresslove/pseuds/temptresslove
Summary: “I didn’t think an asshole like you would have a job that required you to save lives,” Harry bit out, unable to restrain himself.Tom’s smirk became wider. He slowly inspected Harry’s arm, eyes focused. Then he looked up at Harry’s face, their faces very near to each other. Harry gulped and blushed.Fuck.Why was he evenblushing?





	Of Quidditch Stars and Star Doctors

“He’s an asshole,” Hermione says bitterly. “But he’s the best in the field.” His doctor, Hermione Granger, says this as with a resignation in her voice. Like they’ve tried to prove it wrong, but they’ve never succeeded. Tom Riddle was brilliant. It was the first word that came up when you tried to associate things with him—along with perennial asshole and unforgivingly handsome.

At least, that’s what Harry heard when the nurses started talking about the famed St. Mungos doctor when they found it he was going to be called in.

Because apparently, Harry was a lost cause, and if he wanted to be saved, then there was only one person left to contact. And that he should pray that Tom can save him. Because if he couldn’t, then no one can.

And if no one can, then Harry might as well say goodbye to his career as the century’s best Seeker.

Maybe if Harry wasn’t so stubborn and wasn’t so prideful, this wouldn’t happen. He actually really thought that his injury wasn’t serious enough. He thought any doctor could fix it.

He seriously hoped this Tom Riddle was as good as they said he was, why with what Harry was paying him, he should be able to play again in no time.

Harry waits and tries to move his arm. He bites his lip to stop himself from screaming. Merlin, that hurt.

Hermione looked at him with pity in her eyes. She was probably thinking what everyone else was thinking, ah, poor Harry Potter. The best Quidditch player the world has ever seen… never to play again… never to ever set foot in a Quidditch pitch again.

What would his team say? What about all his endorsements? And what else was he good at anyway?

Harry tried not to think about all those things. What mattered now was that the best doctor in the whole world was going to fix his arm. Or was going to try. Try his damnest because Harry was not going to lose his arm over a stupid mistake.

Harry heard excited squeals outside his hospital room. One of his prior nurses, Lavender Brown, opened the door and said. “He’s here!” in complete excitement forgetting all the professionalism one expected of a nurse.

There was a sudden hush and Harry knew that whoever this famed Tom Riddle was, was right outside his door.

“Ladies,” a deep voice greeted the, Harry presumed, the group of nurses outside his room. Lavander looked awestruck and finally moved aside when Harry caught sight of a very tall ma—wait, something about him was familia—oh no. No no no _no_ —

“Ah, Mr. Potter, was it?”

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._

Harry wanted to bury himself in the hospital bed as a very apparent blush crept as his cheeks. Why was his happening to him? And all in one day? And in what? A span of three hours?

Because there, standing in all his 6 foot glory, was Tom Riddle himself, just as handsome as the nurses said he would be and smirking arrogantly at Harry, exactly the asshole everyone painted him to be.

The very same man who put him in this situation—the very same man who broke his arm.

* * *

Maybe he could pretend he didn’t know the man. Pretend to be in a state of such pain that he was delirious? That was a thing, right? That was a thing in the uh, medical field? Harry would rather _die_ than admit that he knew Tom Riddle.

“Still prideful even in the face of losing your career, I see,” Tom drawled in a bored fashion. As if he had time to idle around while a patient was... losing his career. And maybe possible never use his dominant arm ever again.

Harry swallowed. This was so hard. “Yes, well I’m paying you a rather large amount of money so,” Harry looked at Tom in the eye. “If you could just fix my arm now.”

Did he sound childish?

“Mhm,” Tom said walking slowly towards Harry looking every bit as arrogant has Harry remembered him. All bravado and handsomeness.

“I didn’t think an asshole like you would have a job that required you to save lives,” Harry bit out, unable to restrain himself.

Tom’s smirk became wider. He slowly inspected Harry’s arm, eyes focused. Then he looked up at Harry’s face, their faces very near to each other. Harry gulped and blushed.

Fuck.

Why was he even _blushing_?

Tom pulled away and stared at Harry with an amused expression.

“It’s worse,” Tom says nonchalantly.

Harry waited for him to elaborate. Because that was a doctor’s job. But he didn’t.

“So can you save me or not?” Harry says, annoyed. 

“What did I tell you?” Tom says while shrugging.

Harry takes a deep breath.

Tom told him that there was a _huge_ probability that his arm was not going to be fixed when Tom hit Harry with his car.

Or maybe Harry hit him. He couldn’t exactly remember. He had stomped out of his car and knocked angrily at Tom’s car ready to curse him with a litany of bad words.

“You _insane_ assho—“ And then the windows rolled down and Harry saw the most handsome man he’s laid eyes on in his entire life. He suddenly lost the ability to speak. He was pretty sure he _didn’t_ gape. He also _didn’t_ blush.

“You hit me,” the man said as-a-matter of factly as if being that good-looking allowed him to twist the story because Harry was pretty sure the Greek god hit _him_.

Suddenly regaining the ability to talk he scathingly pointed at the man and said, “ _You_ hit _me_.”

The man only looked at him blankly. Until his eyes travelled to Harry’s arm.

It was then that he told Harry— _arrogantly_ —that he needed to be taken to the hospital immediately because the earlier they could perform surgery, the better his chances of healing were.

Like fuck he was going to trust an asshole who basically ran over him in the freeway telling him what to do. Albeit, it was a _very_ handsome stranger. And it didn’t even hurt that much. He could still move it. Which the asshole obnoxiously said he shouldn’t do.

And Harry had rolled his eyes and told the tall man he could go and that Harry could take care of himself.

The asshole raised his eyebrow and said, “Suit yourself.” He smirks at Harry. “You’ll be begging for my help, anyway.”

Like fuck he was.

Harry watched him drive recklessly fast and disappear.

That was… weird.

Harry went back to his car and drove all the way downtown when he felt the _pain_.

And now he was here.

And he finally understood what Riddle meant with the begging.

Not like he was going to do it anyway.

“But can you fix it?” Harry asks, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate. When it came down to it, Quidditch really was everything he had. That was his talent. His only talent.

The seriousness of the situation hit him. What if this Tom Riddle couldn’t fix it? What if he really couldn’t play again? What would he do with his life? He was so young. He was the youngest Seeker ever. Quidditch Magazine projected a 30-year career for him before his reflexes slowed down, they said.

But now… he’d only been playing for a year, and he loved it, he loved Quiddit—

“Of course,” Tom says arrogantly. “I _am_ the greatest doctor in this country.” He smirks at Harry. Harry tries his best not to scowl. “It would taint my reputation if I didn’t fix the century’s greatest Seeker.” It was _best_ Seeker, Harry thinks. There’s a glint in the doctor’s eye when he says, “Especially after he hit me with his car.”

Was it possible to be _this_ annoyed even when he was on the brink of losing his the only life he’sknown?

“My reputation is much bigger than yours,” Harry spats.

The bastard only smirks at him like he knew this was not true. “Let’s get you to the surgery room.”

Harry last thought before they injected him with anesthesia was: Who the fuck even knew who Tom Riddle was, anyway?

* * *

Apparently, everyone did.

“He’s like, the best doctor there is,” Ginny says as she ties her hair in preparation to go back to the pitch. “He saved Viktor once from that injury, you know. They said it was hopeless. Rumors say Tom only laughed at it.”

“He also repaired Draco’s leg, mate,” Ron says while taking a bite of his sandwich. “The one that you damaged, six months ago.” Ron reminds him.

“He’s the Malfoy family doctor,” Ginny adds. “And they only get the best.”

Oh.

Harry finds out that aside from being the best doctor in the country, he was also the youngest doctor in St. Mungo’s and graduated Summa Cum Laude.

Harry understands that the only reason he didn’t really know Tom Riddle beforehand was because he never had any game related injuries.

He smiles smugly at that.

* * *

This was a very premature thought, Harry thinks, as he once again finds himself at the presence of Tom Riddle.

“Draco injured me,” he says right away when Tom enters his hospital room. He did _not_ sound defensive. 

Did he?

“Mhm,” Tom says as he smirks at Harry. “I take it you don’t remember what you said when you were injected with anesthesia?”

Harry looks at him with as much hatred as he could. “Just do your job.”

Harry finds out later from the excited whispers of Lavender that he _might_ have tried to pick a fight with Tom even under anesthesia. Apparently, he called Tom handsome and asshole in the same sentence _while_ threatening to kill him _and_ saying something that was—Harry wasn’t sure if Lavander said—sexual or brutal.

* * *

“I’m beginning to think you’re injuring yourself just to have an excuse to see me,” Tom says conceitedly as he enters the room.

Harry would say something snarky in reply if he wasn’t in so much pain.

The last thing Harry hears is Tom saying his name with a weird look on his face before he blacks out.

* * *

“You know, if you wanted to ask me out, you could just ask me.”

Harry rolls his eyes.

Why was it only now that he was getting injuries that his manager demanded he go see Tom Riddle only because he was _“the best”_? And they didn’t want any complications with the first surgery Harry had, and now, well he was stuck with Riddle.

“Tom, if _you_ wanted to ask _me_ out, you could just ask me,” Harry smirks. “Instead of always pinning your attraction on me.”

Tom appears like he doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t say anything. And Harry gloats because Tom always had something witty to sa—

“Alright.” Tom says suddenly. “Go out with me.”

_Askjdnjlbelinewkld._

_What?_

_“_ W-what?” Harry stutters, starting to blush. Was Tom Riddle _actually_ hitting on him? Right _now_? Just before he went to surgery? 

What the actual fuck???

“Go out with me, Harry,” Tom says again, slowly this time, as if making sure Harry could understand the simple words. He looks amused at Harry’s obvious discomfort.

This time, Harry is pretty sure he is gaping.

“Well?” Tom asks impatiently.

“I-I-“ Harry swallows. He’d be lying if he never considered it before. Tom is very attractive. And smart. And had a way with words that Harry was pretty sure he would laugh at if he wasn’t busy always bickering with the man. “Yes?”

Tom smirks. “After you heal from this surgery, then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Years later, when the media finds out about their wedding engagement, Tom smugly points out that the papers chose to write his name first on the news headlines.
> 
> Harry rolls his eyes before saying he earns so much more than Tom, anyway, so it shouldn’t matter.
> 
> Tom argues that if he did modeling like Harry did…
> 
> Harry scoffs because no. No one should be able to see Tom. Like ever. Like in a modelling, entertainment business way. No.
> 
> Tom was his.
> 
> And he already had to deal with so many women and man ogling at his fiance. What would happen the whole world looked at Tom like so many people looked at him now?
> 
> No way.
> 
> Tom looks at him suspiciously. “What’s wrong?”
> 
> “Nothing,” Harry says fast. “You know I never did get to tell you,” Harry gulps, hoping to distract Tom from pursuing a modeling career. “I think… I kind of—” Harry closes his eyes mentally preparing himself for the teasing that was going to come. But it was fine. So long as he didn't get to share Tom with anyone. “It was me. I really did hit you with my car, not you.”
> 
> Silence.
> 
> Harry opens his eyes.
> 
> Tom is looking at him blankly.
> 
>  
> 
> _”Duh.”_


End file.
